


Cold Blooded Torture, Bleeding Out, Grabbed by the Hair

by PGT



Category: One Piece
Genre: Biting, Blood, Cannibalism, Dressrosa Arc, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 04:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18909463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PGT/pseuds/PGT
Summary: Part 1 of my BTH Bingo.Worse version of the Dellinger v Bellamy encounter.





	Cold Blooded Torture, Bleeding Out, Grabbed by the Hair

“You couldn't even get such a simple task right, ” Dellinger giggled. He stepped in an almost dance-like manner in a circle around Bellamy, perfectly distant enough that Bellamy would have to lunge to reach him. As it was, Bellamy’s jaw was locked shut, his blunt nails digging into his palms. He wanted to grab Dellinger by the arm, by the neck, by the fucking horns for all it mattered, scream in his face to shut the hell up, but he couldn’t.

After all, he was right.

“It’s no wonder Doffy told me to finish you off here.” He leaned into Bellamy’s range now, peeking up from below the rim of his baseball cap with a broad, fanged grin. His hands postured on his hips, and despite the uneven angle he seemed to have no issue balancing in his heels. His defense was completely down. It was a taunt, a dare. He knew Bellamy wouldn’t take it.

But not just his guilt of failing Doffy stopped him, or Dellinger’s strength, or his confidence or his rank. It was what he had said. Dellinger continued, but Bellamy almost didn’t hear it, lost in thought.

“That’s the Young Master’s order.”

His stomach twisted, his heart dropped, his body shivered as he absorbed the meaning behind the fishman’s words. “No way...” He breathed through gritted teeth, vision blurring as dread and guilt turned to anger, indignation. What had he fucked up so badly that he deserved to die? And by this brat’s hands? His hands clenched tighter, and if he were more present he may have worried at the pain growing in his palm.

“Ah! I shouldn’t have said that! Sorry!” Dellinger snickered into his hand, straightening and stalking a step from Bellamy. When he stilled, they had both come to the same conclusion. Dellinger sobered as Bellamy let his anger consume him.

Dellinger spoke. “No more chit-chat.”

Before Bellamy could raise his arm, Dellinger had already twisted, raising one leg into a sweeping kick that met Bellamy’s stomach, the heel of the shoe digging deep into his flesh. He sailed from the impact, crashing into the far wall, crushing a number of empty wooden crates that had the unfortunate fate of being in Dellinger’s trajectory. Splintering wood stung at Bellamy’s skin before he met the stone wall, smacking into it hard enough to take his breath away, as well as digging what splinters had stuck further into his back. He felt warm blood trickle from a particularly large fragment of wood near his shoulder. As he stumbled to his feet, he knew Dellinger’s fighting-fish senses had smelled it, too.

From down the hall, as Dellinger had not moved from his original position, Bellamy could see his eyes dilate, his teeth sharpen, his grin grow. He hummed in what sounded closer to ecstasy than delight. Either way, it pissed Bellamy off as he stepped forward to counterattack.

“Prepare to die, Bellamy!” He purred, taking one step to meet Bellamy before ducking beneath his punch and thrusting forward with his heel once more, meeting Bellamy in his unguarded side and sending him once more into a wall. His body made a dent in the stone, and he shook rubble from his hair as he went to push himself off the ground.

“Stay down, why don't you?” Dellinger laughed. He was suddenly at Bellamy’s side, sharp toe meeting the same spot that had just been kicked, once, twice, three times. His ribs burned and he couldn’t help but curl into himself, gritting his teeth at what he knew must look so pathetic.

“You can’t even stand up, and you thought the Young Master would even consider you!” More laughter. A stomp that caused his knees to slip from under him, putting him prone, stomach down in the stone rubble of the wall. 

“You’re so weak it’s almost cute.”

There was a brief respite after Bellamy fell prone, where he took no beating, only breathed. He could hear Dellinger’s shoes as he clicked across the floor. Not leaving Bellamy’s radius, still giving Bellamy no safe moment to get to his feet. With his ribs burning as they did, he wasn’t sure he would be able to rise in any quick manner that Dellinger wouldn't shut down immediately. 

The click of heels ceased just ahead of Bellamy, to where if he turned his head he might see those blood red eyes above him. However he didn’t have to, feeling a lithe hand tangle in his tousled hair, gripping unkindly and pulling his head up. Dellinger met his eyes with a cocked head, eyes wide and fangs biting his lower lip. He giggled as he always did, and it made Bellamy’s skin crawl.

“You wouldn’t be a terrible playmate,” Dellinger mused, though Bellamy didn’t know what the hell it meant. Dellinger’s free hand took Bellamy’s cheek ungently, thumbnail threatening to pierce the skin, scratching an angry line from the middle point to his jaw. Bellamy swore he could see the already saucer-like red irises grow wider as the mark formed.

He didn’t have a chance to ask what the hell a playmate was before his head was abruptly smashed into the floor. He swore into the stone as he felt it crack beneath his skull, felt the warm blood spill from his forehead. “Sit up,” Dellinger commanded, and Bellamy found himself obeying.

It wasn’t an easy task, his ribs ignited with pain in every movement. While he managed to get upright using the wall for support only pressed into the wounds on his back. Blood dripped into his right eye, and blinking only caused it to smear. With red vision, he watched as Dellinger kicked his legs apart, so that he sat with his legs in a “v,” between which Dellinger crouched. He looked at Bellamy with his fanatic smile, tongue poking out from between razor sharp teeth. Bellamy didn’t even have the headspace to wonder at why Dellinger leaned towards him, only barely leaning away before a hand tangled in his hair again.

Dellinger’s tongue met the smeared blood that oozed from a laceration in Bellamy’s hairline, the odd wetness causing Bellamy to scrunch his nose and curse, a large hand meeting Dellinger’s shoulder and meeting as much resistance as one might meet pushing an immovable object. For as much as he had been bruised and battered by Dellinger already, it still shocked him how futile it was to even push the scrawnier man aside. He was crouching in heels, for fucks sake, and he couldn’t even manage to throw him off balance?

He growled at himself as Dellinger made a slurping sound above him. “If there’s one thing you’re good for,” He remarked, leaning back but keeping a hand in Bellamy’s hair, “You don’t taste half bad.” 

Dellinger’s lips were stained pink with what Bellamy knew was his own fucking blood, and for as much as he knew the fishman to be a feral sort, it was a new horror knowing it was his own blood keeping the man’s bloodlust alive.

He felt his head pulled to the left, pivoted by a tug in his scalp. Dellinger leaned in again.

“What the fuck are you doing, bastard--”

Bellamy watched as Dellinger found the bare flesh of his neck and bit down, hard. If not for his back and ribs already aflame, he may have been able to stifle the roar that tore through him, feeling his skin snap with the pressure of each individual fang in Dellinger’s mouth. He felt blood course to his shoulder, felt Dellinger’s tongue dance around the wound with his jaw still latched tightly, soaking up what of the warm liquid he could.

From the force of his scream and the quickly flowing blood, Bellamy felt faint, panting to near hyperventilation as he simply watched the smaller man moan into his shoulder. He tried to push Dellinger from every angle fruitlessly, what force that was effective only tugging at his wound further as he risked pulling Dellinger away with a chunk of his own muscle.

"You're fucking crazy" he gritted out, hand gripping Dellinger's horn but unable to pull him off. 

Dellinger giggled at the insult, his teeth rustling the wound and sparking further pain. With a squelch, he unclamped from Bellamy's body, meeting him once more face to face, blood dripping down his chin and neck. The fishman took Bellamy's face in his free hand once more, leaning in to a one-sided kiss that stained Bellamys lips with his own blood. No longer at risk of tearing his own body apart, Bellamy didn't hesitate to tug Dellinger aside with the grip on his horn, only for him to fall backwards, taking Bellamy with him with the hand in his hair.

Dellinger twisted their bodies, not letting Bellamy even think of taking advantage of having fallen on top of him. He straddled Bellamy with his arms caging his head.

"You're sick," Bellamy hissed, pissed at his inability to twist Dellinger off of him. At his words Dellinger dug his thigh deeper into his bruised side, rendering his vision white with pain.

"Just a cat playing with it's food, that's all." Dellinger pressed his chest onto Bellamy's, tracing the red ink of his Donquixote pirate tattoo with a finger.

"I should take care of this for you," he mused. "The Young Master wouldn't like such a disappointing corpse to wear his mark."

With each word, his nail dug deeper, scraping the skin until it marked, it bled and finally until it tore. Bellamy groaned at the growing pain, tied with what he already bore. He felt tears prick his eyes. He'd failed Doflamingo, sure, but not so much that he was an embarrassment, right? Doffy cared for his family, hadn't he promised Bellamy a position in it? So didn't he deserve to wear his mark?

Nonetheless, he couldn't stop Dellinger's nails from clawing away at the ink. If he raised a hand to push him away, Dellinger would catch it and pin it down, trading nails for teeth once more, biting at his chest and lifting up with thin pieces of torn skin between his lips. If he weren't engrossed in the pain on all sides, the horror of his own skin being torn away, or the disgust of feeling Dellinger's bodily reaction, he may have worried about the hygene of the situation. 

When Dellinger finally stopped, Bellamy had run out of will to fight back. He only hurt. Dellinger sat up on his stomach and admired his work. He licked between his fingers like a cat grooming. They really were cat and mouse. Bellamy realized he really was just a fucking pest to Doffy. A rodent. He wasn't wanted. Bellamy would die and Doflamingo might care more about news of his death than for anything he had ever done to please him.

He vaguely recognized the tackiness of tearlines down his face, not remembering when he'd started crying, but unable to deny it had happened. His mouth tasted like iron, blood from Dellinger's kiss having flaked and found it's way into his mouth. He didn't bother to raise his head to see the distruction rendered upon his chest, but the gumminess of clotting blood encased his torso, flexing with every ragged breath he took. 

He felt cold, and knowing what that meant he began to panic, though he made no effort to escape, knowing he could not.

"Dying so early?" Dellinger asked, thumb still stuck in his mouth to be licked clean. 

"Fuck you," Bellamy breathed. But he didn't deny it. He had a feeling Dellinger was right.

Dellinger pouted, jabbing his knee into Bellamy's ribs just for the satisfaction of Bellamy's wheeze of pain. Sure enough, even the instinctual response was dulled, his breath becoming shallow. Bellamy shuddered beneath him, and with a growl of frustration, Dellinger stood. He stomped on Bellamy's chest wound once more for good measure, before swiveling on his heel and stalking away. 

"Not even ten minutes," he muttered, loud enough for the bleeding man to hear, though at this point it hardly mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at loyle-trash on Tumblr! I expect to write one piece, Hunter x hunter, and critical role to fill out this sheet.


End file.
